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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318233">Momentum Transfers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendofYggdrasil/pseuds/FriendofYggdrasil'>FriendofYggdrasil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Multi, Mystery, No enabler, Other, Pollination, Poly STR, RWBY/Gravity Falls AU, Romance? Sure why not., Smut? Sorry not today, Some Angst for Seasoning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:34:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendofYggdrasil/pseuds/FriendofYggdrasil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yang and Ruby go to stay with their Uncle Qrow for a summer in a little town called Beacon, Oregon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna/Ruby Rose, Blake Belladonna/Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna/Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen/Summer Rose, Raven Branwen/Summer Rose/Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen/Taiyang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee, Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>Author Notes</strong>: This fic is brought to you by the CFVY Shop gang and Quarantine: Stay the fuck inside! We'll see how far it goes, but I'm mostly here for fun. This story isn't going to be super shipping focused. However, in this house we love and support Polyparents and the Nation of Pollination (Not you, Enabler). So if you are vehemently opposed to those concepts popping up, then here's your chance to jump ship. Otherwise, not my problem. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Momentum Transfers</p><p>Chapter 1</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>See, the thing about death, is that nobody wants to be reminded of it. People might act like they do, sure. They’ll send their ‘thoughts and prayers’, flowers, edible bouquets; make it seem that they have some investment in thinking about your health and longevity.  In reality though, these are coping mechanisms to help ward away something they aren’t ready to confront; you’re honestly just a bystander.</p><p>They want to smother your hospital bed with get-well cards and sparkly, limp balloons to obscure the real face of the issue. Because if they did look it in the face, then maybe they’d see something a little too familiar and way too real looking back at them; and then they’d get uncomfortable.</p><p>Yang had realized that she, too, made most people uncomfortable now; this was because, about six months ago, she’d come down with a case of missing the majority of her left arm and a lot of skin on her left leg. Before the accident, she generally had the opposite effect with most of the people she met. Yang could have walked into a Texaco, her high school, a police station, or the Tom goddamn Thumb, and anyone whose eyes she met then would have been generally happy to return the favor.</p><p>Now though, not so much. Now, whether the people in question were her old high-school friends or the aging cashier at the Seven Eleven, there was always a flicker across peoples faces. Like a record player skipping a beat; and then the warmth would sour into pity or some variation of it. </p><p>Previously, Yang hadn’t really considered herself to be a popular girl; because in good ole Patch, Texas you needed to be several magnitudes more straight and Christian to become truly popular. Even the sports she was into weren’t that mainstream (nobody in Patch cared about girls hockey - she’d had to play in the next big town over, and was lucky to do so). Overall, she’d honestly considered herself someone who stood out from the herd. She’d taken pride in her rebel status, in fact.</p><p> However, Yang now realized that she had had things pretty easy. Not perfect, mind you, but still. Life had, up until this point, been kind to her. Getting smeared down a desert highway at seventy miles per hour had a tendency to really put things like that into perspective for a person. </p><p>Things were different now, and she’d been doing her best to accept that. It was difficult, though, because people kept telling her sister or people in her daily orbit what a ‘shame’ it was. It was a shame. It was such a shame, such a tragedy. See the thing was, though, Yang didn’t think it was a shame that she was still alive and still had most of her body in functioning order. It was a kind of a miracle, honestly, because she shouldn’t have walked away at all. But that? That’s not what people were talking about, because that’s not what people saw.  </p><p>She had a prosthetic, technically, but she didn’t want to wear it. Not yet. Yang wanted to ingrain the truth into her brain first. She wanted to absorb the fact that most people hadn’t really seen her, Yang the person, before; but Yang the pretty athlete, with both her arms and all the skin on her legs.</p><p>She’d told her parents that verbatim, when they’d asked her why she still wouldn’t wear it. Her parents were good, lovely people that she adored with her whole heart, especially when she wasn’t feeling like static soup in a tin can. She’d known she was really worrying them, but didn’t believe she genuinely made them uncomfortable; she questioned that when they’d told her that she and Ruby would be going to stay with their uncle in Oregon for the summer. </p><p>“I just want to stay home,” she’d told them. “Why do I need to leave?”</p><p>“A change in scenery will help, Yang,” her father had insisted, for the hundredth time.</p><p>Her mom hadn’t looked too sure about that, herself; Yang hadn’t argued, but she went to bed early and didn’t answer the door when her mom knocked on it later to check on her.</p><p>Last year, Yang would have jumped at the chance to go on an adventure with her sister to Oregon. She loved road trips and had always wanted to go to the pacific northwest. It was breathtakingly beautiful, unlike flat ole dusty Patch, and there was so much you could do, too. Hiking, mountain climbing, biking, camping, all the good stuff they used to do when she was younger; all the good stuff she didn’t want to miss out on now or have dangled right in front of her.</p><p>Ruby, on the other hand, was completely hyped. Yang’s little sister had been trying to cheer her up since the accident that winter, something else that Yang felt more than a little guilty over; and Ruby had completely fixated on the chance for them to go do something cool <em> together. </em>   Even if Yang could dig up some of her old rebelliousness and tell her parents she wasn’t going, she didn’t have the heart to take this trip away from Ruby. The next day, she’d agreed to go.</p><p>So it was that the Rose-Xiao Long sisters wound up in Beacon, Oregon for their summer vacation.</p><p> </p><p>……</p><p> </p><p>Uncle Qrow was a lanky rascal of a middle-aged man, who still believed he was a lanky rascal of a twenty something year old man and had not yet gotten the memo. He had converted his weird old house into a weird old roadside attraction called the Lifted Vale, and would lure bored tourists off their drive to the coast and shake them down. He was, to be honest, a complete crook; but he was, to be fair, an honest crook.</p><p>Yang and Ruby had only met Uncle Qrow twice before, and they had both been young enough for the event to not really stand out in the passage of time. He would always send racy postcards around the holidays like clockwork; and every year for Halloween he would send their dad a bottle of crown royal and a bunch of those sugar covered marshmallow peeps.</p><p>Dad would then eat the mallows and drink the crown in one sitting with mom on the sofa; and sometimes, they would get sad when they thought Yang or Ruby weren’t watching. Despite this odd, yearly ritual, their parents had firmly been of the belief that this bizarre, crooked man-child would be the perfect person to foist Yang and Ruby on for the entirety of summer vacation.</p><p>Their first week at the Lifted Vale had been a period of adjustment. They shared a room in the attic, which was actually pretty sweet. Ruby was excited about the whole thing, from the resident goat to the overall rugged appeal, and had chatted up a storm as they unpacked.</p><p>Though Yang wouldn’t admit it, it honestly made her feel a little better that they were sharing a room again; because if she woke up from a night terror or with phantom pains, then bam, there was Ruby. Ready to talk to her about classic boy bands and the merits of kpop, whether or not grapes or grapefruits were named after each other, and why English speakers don’t speak the way they spell. Ruby always made dark things instantly more bearable, like a talkative, somewhat awkward nightlight. </p><p>Despite Yang’s initial reservations, the only major downside to this arrangement that she could conceive of was the fact that they were technically working all summer. Working was a generous label, though, because Yang had had real jobs before; and Lift Life was less genuine labor, more flex-taping the antlers back on the stuffed rabbit head while Uncle Qrow distracted the tourists.</p><p>In fact, so far? It was even kind of fun. Their Uncle employed two other teens around her age. Jaune, the handyman, whom Yang had already asked to ‘give her a hand’ multiple times and gotten some pretty good reactions; and then there was Blake, who. Well. Did something? Mostly she just read behind the counter and smarted off to Uncle Qrow, despite his daily promises to fire her; Yang respected her commitment.</p><p>When Uncle Qrow was leading a train of surprisingly eager tourists about the place, pointing out the ghoulish things in his collection that he <em> swore </em> to Christ above were all real, they usually had the gift shop floor to themselves. Jaune or Blake would play fight over the radio or play riddle games, which Blake would always win. Meanwhile, Ruby would snoop in all the stuff they weren’t supposed to do any snooping in, and Yang might try on overpriced sunglasses that were supposed to help you see spirits.</p><p>That was another thing about Beacon, too. Yang had immediately noticed that the town their Uncle Qrow lived in was a genuinely <em> weird </em> place. The kind of place that her parents would love; and it honestly shocked her that her cynical old uncle lived up here, but their family didn’t.  </p><p>There were regular UFO sightings, for one. People would go missing in the nearby national parks, and apparently, Beacon was a hotbed for missing persons cases of a similar nature. Aliens, Sasquatch, poltergeists, shadow people and wendigos – that last one had made her nervous, a little excited, even. Yang had always been a big nerd for cryptids and mythology, and this place had immediately rekindled that old spark. </p><p>It made sense enough, considering both her parents had run a paranormal investigation team for twenty years and counting. Mom used to let her read some of their old case files when Yang would bug her enough; and there were some stories her parents had that <em> still </em> made her arms break out in goosebumps. There was something thrilling about the supernatural that had always intrigued their family; except for, perhaps, Ruby and Uncle Qrow. Definitely not Uncle Qrow, actually.</p><p>Despite running a business that regularly made money off paranormal tourists, Uncle Qrow was firmly in the camp that legends and stories that surrounded Beacon were just that. Stories. Stories made by guys like him to make money off people who were, perhaps, identical to the bouquet sending, thoughts and prayers crowd that Yang had grown so disillusioned with.</p><p>However, Yang wasn’t so sure about that. Even back in Patch, she’d known regular people who’d had experiences that they couldn’t <em> really </em> explain; things they often spoke about with a sense of wonder and quiet uncertainty. John, her bike mechanic, had once told her how he’d been followed by a Skinwalker during a long, lonely drive through Wyoming; and one of Ruby’s sophomore friends regularly saw ghosts, though she didn’t like to talk about it.</p><p> In the end, Yang was obviously not entirely sure that there were completely inexplicable things in the world, let alone Beacon. She just had an instinct about it; or perhaps, this resurging interest in the supernatural was her way of dealing with her own discomfort, from looking death in the face a little too closely herself.  </p><p>However, this curious rekindling would reach a new peak, on the afternoon that her Uncle Qrow decided to send his one-armed niece out to nail signs up by the road.</p><p> </p><p>……</p><p> </p><p>“This is complete bull donkey,” Yang grumbled to herself, slowly picking her way around the ferns. “No one’s even gonna read these.”</p><p>She knew she could have asked Ruby to help her, and her little sister would have been more than happy to do so; but Ruby had sacrificed enough of her time already helping Yang out, and she did not want her to feel obligated. Besides, wasn’t <em> she </em> supposed to be the one to help Ruby when she needed it?  </p><p>This wasn’t about Ruby, though, this was about Uncle Qrow. He had a tendency to ask Yang to do chores of a surprisingly difficult nature; no hesitation, no further consideration, just “Yang! Go do this weird thing that might sometimes be a little bit unsafe!” Which, ya know, she physically could do. But who the hell asks people with one hand to go hammer something? Was it because she was the oldest? Because she was tall? Who knew how that man’s mind actually worked?</p><p>Shaking her loose blonde hair over her shoulders and regretting not wrangling it into a ponytail that morning, Yang sighed. She was close to the hiking trails that paralleled the road into town and got some pretty good traffic; this was far enough.</p><p>She shrugged her backpack off and crouched, pulling out the signs for the Lift, the nails and hammer. Then she stood and stretched, staring bemusedly at the various spruce trees.</p><p>“Eeny, meeny, miny….Mo,” Yang picked an oddly shaped tree a few feet away, picked up the hammer and sidled up to it. Spinning the hammer in her hand, she aimed the teeth of it at a spot a little below eye level; she would put a divot in the bark first, and then try to wedge the nail in before hammering.</p><p>She swung. A deep, vibrating thrum shook through the tree and up her arm; the forest echoed as if Yang had struck an anvil and not a living spruce. She inhaled slowly, and lowered her arm, violet eyes wide.</p><p>“What?” she murmured aloud, dropping the hammer by her foot and touching the ‘bark’.</p><p>It….wasn’t bark. The weird, dead spruce tree was not a tree at all, apparently, but some metal construction. Yang briefly wondered if it was a very artistic radio tower, before brushing the notion away. Still, why else would this thing be out here?</p><p>Her fingers brushed over the surface further, and she realized it wasn’t the entire tree that was metal, but a fake panel; finding the edge, Yang dug her finger tips in and pulled. It swung open with a loud creak.</p><p>Inside the secret tree compartment sat a rusted device that may have been an old radio controller. Curiosity mounting, Yang played with the switches, flipping all of them back and forth. Behind her, a mechanical grinding started; she turned to watch a trap door in the forest floor open. Was this one of Uncle Qrow’s forgotten tourist contraptions?</p><p>“What the,” she nosed over the edge of a small hole in the moss covered forest floor.</p><p>There, at the bottom of the hidden compartment was…a book.</p><p>
  <em> Just a book? Really? Did I find Blake’s secret stash or something? </em>
</p><p>Yang stared in bewilderment, before scooping the dusty thing out. No one had handled it in years, that much was obvious. It was bound in brown leather, and the front cover had a picture of a three eyed black bird. </p><p>“Huh. Spooky.”</p><p>Without further ado, she opened it, blowing some of the dust and cobwebs away. On the inside of the cover, the name of the person who owned the book was missing, having been torn out. Yang flipped the pages, finding one of the first entries; it was, apparently, a journal. </p><p>
  <em> “We’ve been studying the secrets of Beacon, Oregon for the past several years already, and the paranormal happenings surrounding this place only grow more and more fantastic.” </em>
</p><p>Yang felt her heart speed up as she started rapidly flipping through the pages. Intricate drawings, taped in photographs of cryptic beings, and cramped yet neatly legible handwriting covered every page; up unto a certain point at least. On one of the last filled in pages, Yang found another journal entry.</p><p>
  <em> “I am being watched. Worse, I know the contents of my mind are no longer safe. Try as I might, I can’t completely shake him. I am afraid…” </em>
</p><p>Goosebumps prickled across Yang’s arm; briefly, the tinge of a phantom pain in her left arm spiked her nerves.</p><p>
  <em> “I have convinced the others to leave and have purged our databanks of anything that can aid him. I am going to hide this book as well. Remember. In Beacon, there’s no one you can trust.” </em>
</p><p>Yang mouthed the last sentence to herself, fixated. So fixated, in fact, that she did not hear the twigs crunching quietly behind her.</p><p>“Grarrrr!!”</p><p>Yang screamed, jumping away several feet. Behind her, giggling impishly, was her goofy little sister, wearing that rubber Sasquatch mask she had bought in one of the local shops. She even had the nerve to do the brat dance.</p><p>“Hahaha! I got youuu! I. Got. You!“</p><p>“Ruby, you little shit-“</p><p>Ruby placed her palms on her rubber monkey man cheeks, laughing silver eyes peeking out at Yang as she gasped in faux shock.</p><p>“Yang! Such language!”</p><p>Yang rolled her eyes, her breathing and heart rate returning to normal; she was still holding the book. Her sister zeroed in on it instantly.</p><p>“Ooh, what ya got there?”</p><p>Yang hesitated, before moving closer to show her; cryptic warnings or no, she knew she could trust Ruby above anything else in this world. Even if she was, sometimes, a little shit.</p><p>“It’s a journal someone kept in this secret compartment. See? It’s really spooky, actually,” Yang explained, holding the book flat open in her palm. “It’s full of paranormal investigation stuff! Somebody went through a lot of trouble to hide it, apparently.”</p><p>“Oh neeaat,” Ruby picked it gently out of her hand. “Ha, aww, look at this little guy? What is he? A ‘kitsune’? Heh, cute.”</p><p>“But this just proves what I was saying to Uncle Qrow,” Yang nodded, watching as Ruby flipped through the rest of the journal. “Whoever wrote this? They were looking into all the bizarro stuff that happens around here. And apparently something happened to them! See, how it just mysteriously ends like that?”</p><p>“Yea! Ooh, this is some X-Files kind of creepy, huh?” Ruby declared sagely through the rubbery mouth of the Satch-mask. “Do you think it’s, like, an elaborate prank? Or for real?”</p><p>Yang hummed in thought. She supposed it could be something like that. </p><p>“I dunno? I guess it could be either, but still, I’m definitely keeping this.”</p><p>“Sweet,” Ruby chirped. “Oh! Did you want some help with the signs? Blake said Uncle Qrow sent you out here alone to hammer stuff, of all the dorky things.”</p><p>Yang shook her head but smiled, moving to put the signs back in the bag.</p><p>“Thanks, but nah. He never specified how fast I had to put them up, which was <em> his </em> mistake. I wanna go read this.”</p><p>“Ooh, wait for me!”</p><p>Without further ado, the sisters scampered off through the overgrowth and greenery towards the Shack. They didn’t notice the shadow slinking off further into the forest after their departure. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><strong>More Notes</strong>: Thanks to WhatOtherPlanet for the beta, and to SoulStealer1987, Sgt Chrysalis, Shockfactor and Juniorthib for contributing to this kookiness. Ya'll should go read their stuff if you haven't already. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Author's Notes: The wild garbage ride continues, I guess. lol. Thanks for the reviews and stay safe out there, everyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Momentum Transfers</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chapter 2</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yang and Ruby barreled up the porch steps, play-fighting through the door that led into the house proper. Once indoors, Ruby promptly slipped her mask on and trotted upstairs to see if she could jump scare Jaune, while Yang threw back on the comfy chair in the living room, journal in hand. She was absorbed in a paragraph detailing the local fae elements of the forests surrounding Beacon, and how one should avoid making deals with them whenever possible, when her Uncle’s rough voice greeted her from the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sup firecracker! Whatcha got there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang only just managed not to jump. Knowing her uncle would only make fun of her for seriously reading a paranormal forest journal, Yang scooted it under her right thigh and hefted one of Uncle Qrow’s own magazines up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just checking out ah…</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pomades for the Rebel At Heart</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Seriously, old man?” Yang snickered, meeting her uncle’s pale red eyes. “I knew you were kind of a secret dork? But I greatly underestimated how far that rabbit hole went, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Qrow pulled a face as he folded his arms, lip crooking upwards in the hint of a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he protested. “They’re good products. Just cause you don’t care about your hair or how </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> smell, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t. Maybe you should pick somethin out for yourself, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang did not flinch. This was a part of their daily, heckling ritual. Said ritual started at dawn after morning coffee, and lasted until the other admitted temporary defeat; or until Ruby interrupted them. Thus, it was written, and thus it would be, until the end of time; or at the very least, summer vacation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea right! I smell great. I smell like a forest mountain covered in wildflowers in springtime, unlike you, you cranky old goose,” she retorted. “You smell like the inside of Jaune’s work boots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That so? Why are you sniffing the inside of my employee’s work boots, Yang?” Uncle Qrow rasped, eyebrows raised in concern. “I hope you at least asked the poor kid out first. Buy the man a coffee, or something, geez.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yea? I thought we didn’t kink shame in this house, Mr. ‘I alphabetize my leatherman magazines’-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Qrow scowled immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah yes. Victory for Yang, once again</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay out of my goddamn room, Yang, I already told you-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t go in your gross room,” Yang kicked her feet up, grinning victoriously. “I just made an educated guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued to glare at her for a moment, before smirking and rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Bullshit. You’re fired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s ablest discrimination.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scoffed, brushing his hair back with his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you won’t do your damn job, it isn’t. I bet you didn’t even put up those signs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt the edge of the journal pressing into her thigh and shifted about in the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of that - who sends a one-armed person out to hammer something?” she asked, incredulity bleeding into her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, unimpressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me. Cause in this household, we don’t kink shame OR discriminate based on ability. We do, however, call out smartass nieces who think that waving their stump around is gonna get them out of doin chores they are more than capable of doin,” Uncle Qrow declared dryly. “Don’t forget about those signs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea, well don’t forget to rub your Rogaine in,” Yang called as he stalked off down the hallway. “It's getting a little thin up there! That widows peak is looking more like a widows dome these days!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks! I’ll remind your dad to rub some on his dick while I’m at it- I’m sure Summer will thank me later!“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang pretended to vomit. Loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross, gross, gross, </span>
  <em>
    <span>gross</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uncle Qrow cackled nefariously from down the hallway as Yang continued to dry heave dramatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you get!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That joke violates the Geneva Conventions, you jerk-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhh. Whaaat did I just walk in on?” Ruby asked, having come around the corner, Satch mask in hand. Yang had not heard a frightened Jaune yelp anywhere overhead, meaning her fellow blonde had been spared. For now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Yang coughed, recovering instantly. “Just, ya know! Talking about pomade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea. Sure Yang,” Ruby eyed her skeptically, before her smile widened exponentially. “By the way, I have date tonight, so I’m not gonna be around-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, excuse me, what?” Yang bounced out of the comfy chair, spooky journal in hand. “You what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did I lose you?” Ruby asked oh so ‘innocently’. “Do I need to explain what a date is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OOOOH BURN! GET HER, RUBY!” Uncle Qrow hooted from the kitchen. Ruby giggled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind ya beeswax!” Yang shouted back, before refocusing on her sibling. “Ok, I need details! Like right now, I need them. Details. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Yang,” Ruby grimaced, clearly a little embarrassed. Yang however was relentless. Her little sister had never, ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>been on a date before; and now she’d met someone in the first week they’d been here, apparently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is not a detail Ruby!” Yang bounced, smiling ear to ear. “This is exciting, come on! Where did you meet them? What are they like? Who asked who? Are they cute?“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I uh – here. She lives nearby, apparently and was checking out the shop. And she’s um,” Ruby’s face had turned increasingly red. “She’s really cool. I was uh, definitely looking a little? Annnnd she noticed, and then we started talking, and then she asked me out, and she’s really pretty and gosh-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby inhaled deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna go? Yea? I’m gonna get dressed, so,” Ruby shuffled awkwardly as Yang continued bouncing on the pads of her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want help?!” Yang beamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“….Yes please?” Ruby simpered. “Just a little, though! I’m not wearing anything crazy-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang grabbed her sister’s hand, laughing as she led the way, hauling her sibling up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ruby, I got you! You’re gonna look like the bee's knees!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t wanna BE the bees knees,” Ruby groaned. “They’re friggin weird! They don’t even have kneecaps! Or bones! I need those things!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine! You’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>BEE</span>
  </em>
  <span> the bee’s trochanter then!” Yang laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross, the what?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Yang paced outside the upstairs bathroom. Ruby had rejected most of her suggestions, and settled on her favorite jeans and red hoodie, because that was what she was most comfortable in for a first date. Yang could not argue with that logic, at least not against Ruby; her sister had let her help with some other things, like very, very light makeup, and her hair, before shooing her out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ruby, come onnnn,” Yang whined after a minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Chill your pills woman! I will not be rushed!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang sighed loudly, sliding down the wall outside as she waited. And waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up, dude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang tilted her head back, staring up into curious blue eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Jaune. Ruby’s gotta date, and she won’t let me help her get ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You helped enough, thank you!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang blew a raspberry at the shut door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh yes,” Jaune nodded seriously, sliding down the wall to take a seat next to her. “I remember when my sisters helped </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> get ready for my first date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang’s eyebrow rose a fraction as she glanced at him. Jaune was the baby brother of seven older sisters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it um? Was it that bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yea. I still get flashbacks,” Jaune’s eyes went round and distant for a moment. “It’s ok though. Don’t tell Blake this obviously, but I’m pretty sure she had it way worse with like five brothers. They’re all french-canadian lumberjacks and they have precisely </span>
  <em>
    <span>zero </span>
  </em>
  <span>chill.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” Yang chuckled. “But she seems like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> chill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because this is her happy place. She comes here to get away from all the noise at home, not to actually work,” Jaune whispered behind his hand. “That’s a secret though. Don’t tell her I said that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pfft, awww. Are you scared of Blake?” Yang teased him. “What’s up? Does Jauney have a little crush?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If so, she couldn’t blame him at least. Blake was very pretty. She just didn’t seem interested in really engaging with anything around her; at least from what Yang had seen so far, which was admittedly not much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my sweet summer child. I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely </span>
  </em>
  <span>scared of Blake, and you ought to be, too,” Jaune insisted, holding his hands up. “One time? I saw her throw a literal axe that cut her brother’s sandwich clean in half! </span>
  <em>
    <span>While </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was holding it up to take a bite. It stuck into a spruce behind him, deli meat and all. That woman was raised by sweaty, plaid wearing mountain lions, and it shows when you get on her bad side.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang gave the handyman a skeptical look, before realizing he wasn’t pulling her leg. It was hard to wrap her head around the idea of the quiet, sarcastic book nerd putting the fear of god into a bunch of lumberjacks. However, she should really know better than to be judging a book by its cover, by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,”  she exhaled after a moment. “That’s kind of...cool? If a little bit crazy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha, that’s just life out here, dude,” he smiled. “You’ll see. Anyways, I’m gonna get back to it, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang smiled cheesily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need a hand?” she teased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, that reminds me!” he lit up, digging something out of his pocket. It was a plastic wrapped, sticky hand, the type you get out of the vending machines at the grocery store. “I thought that YOU would like a hand. Eh? Yea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang stared at the offered toy, accepting it slowly. She finally pulled it out of the open end of the wrapping, using her teeth a little, and then slapped the neon green hand across the hallway to the other-side. It stuck to the wall there, sliding menacingly down the wallpaper; it was impressively sticky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful. I love it,” Yang said seriously, before glancing his way. “Thanks, Jaune.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He beamed, awkward but sincere, and popped to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started shuffling off down the hallway, before pausing, and whispering conspiratorially her way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the way, if you find out who Ruby’s date is? I can probably tell you if they’re trouble or not. Not a lot of single gals running around Beacon, ya know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang winked at him before a tiny fist thumped threateningly against the bathroom door. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stay in your friggin lane, Jaune!!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oop,” Jaune flinched away. “She’s got really good hearing, see ya!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang chuckled as Jaune fled the scene, moments before Ruby burst from the bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so nosey!” Ruby proclaimed, a mock scowl on her face.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang popped to her feet, a bit more gracefully than she would have even a few weeks ago; her body was growing more accustomed to the difference in balance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Yang smiled. “I’m just happy for you! I’ll try to mind my business, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” Ruby squinted at her. “She picks me up in half an hour. Be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha- I’m always nice!” Yang protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby gave her a stare so dry, that Yang almost offered her some eye drops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am!” Yang yelped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Said dry stare transformed into an impish laugh, and Yang realized she’d been punked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea, I’m just messing with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha- oh my god, you're turning into moooom,” Yang bemoaned. Ruby giggled, shoving her hands inside her hoodie pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Ruby stuck her tongue out, before darting away as Yang swatted Jaune’s sticky-hand playfully at her. “Hahaha! Ewww, hey! No fair, I just did my hair!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The power of christ compels you!” Yang shouted, flinging the sticky hand with wild abandon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ruby pretended to hiss and scamper away, bounding down the stairs and Yang gave chase, accidentally slapping a few pictures off the wall. This game devolved quickly from there, up until Uncle Qrow was shouting at them from the gift shop to stop scaring the customers, unless they wanted to become new exhibits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>……</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rang. Yang had posted up in the living room to deliberately not spy whatsoever on this mystery chick. Had this been a half year or so ago, she may have been posted out front instead, hitting pucks in the driveway as hard as she could; now though, she had realized that that would not be particularly impressive, because she had not yet remastered such skills. </span>
</p><p><em><span>Now THAT would be a flex, though.</span></em> <em><span>Maybe I can jerry rig my prosthetic so I can play again? </span></em></p><p>
  <span>Ruby opened the door, her voice sounding a little high and nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Wow, um, would you like to come in for a bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang perked up, but reopened the spooky journal, doing her best to appear disinterested in what was going on. Meanwhile, Ruby fluttered into view, smiling, clearly unsure what to do with her hands. Yang finally glanced up, preparing to put on her best ‘friendly and not at all intimidating’ face. The greeting that had half formed on her tongue died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yang, this is Coco, Coco this is my sister, Yang!” Ruby chirped, clearly fighting the urge to rock on her heels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Coco’ smiled languidly, tilting her head ever so slightly as she appraised Yang behind black sunglasses. Yang stared back. Coco looked like she had just rolled off a runway, or had flown up from Los Angeles in her parents jet; and normally, that wouldn’t have impressed Yang all that much. Money didn’t actually make people interesting, in her experience.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, there was definitely something off about this chick; Yang had good instincts for people, and could tell almost instantly if someone was trustworthy or not. Coco did not make the cut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For starters, who the hell wears sunglasses at night, besides literal pre-nineties era vampires? That and Yang didn’t feel like Coco was actually a local. She would have noticed a girl this distinct hanging around the shop or immediate area before now; and she knew that Coco hadn’t driven up in a car, because the lot was empty now and she would have heard tires on the gravel. Coco didn’t look like she could have walked up to the store via one of the trails, either. Not in </span>
  <em>
    <span>those </span>
  </em>
  <span>shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hey,” Yang said after a long moment. She realized she sounded suspicious, and Ruby was giving her an odd look. “Nice to meet you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coco kept smiling, but said smile had sharpened a little at Yang’s tone. Yang didn’t like that expression at all. Ruby, sensing the mounting tension in the room, decided that now was the time to bolt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welp! See ya, sis!” Ruby waved, edging away towards the door to freedom. “I’ll be back in a few!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you got your cell right?” Yang called, following after them. “And where are you guys going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, and uh-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The graveyard,” Coco supplied coolly, still watching Yang’s movements. “That’s where lots of people go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The...graveyard?” Yang repeated slowly.  "You're serious?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea,” Coco shrugged. “It’s a Beacon thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok? Well, have fun then,” Yang said, never taking her eyes off Coco’s dumb shades. Coco grinned a little and sashayed away, looping her arm in Ruby’s, who jumped a little. Coco then waved as they walked out the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, I do not like her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang glared for a while longer, before grumping her way back to the living room and flopping into the comfy chair. She knew it wasn’t her job to hover, and honestly, she genuinely did not want to. However, there was a difference between being  overprotective and ignoring her personal instincts that were repeating the mantra, “danger!” over and over over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frowning, Yang flipped open the journal, lost in thought. After a moment, she paused and started to actually absorb what she was reading. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“-there is a local vampire coven, so watch out for them.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait….what?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t panic. Just because they’re dead, doesn’t mean they all magically became geniuses; unlike the Hollywood stereotype, most of these guys are genuinely stupid. (like most living people, what a surprise). You can pick them out easily if you just pay attention. For starters, you’ll never see them in full daylight; only evening or after dark. Their outfits won’t match their environment most of the time, since they dress for decadence, not practicality or to blend in.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang looked up from the journal and stared at the screen door leading out into the evening air. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They typically conceal their eyes, because at certain angles they have night shine - like an animal. You’d think they might have discovered the magic of colored contacts by now, but considering half of them can’t even figure out a calculator, that might be asking a bit too much.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Yang muttered, her lavender eyes wide. Had her sister just waltzed out the front door with a legit vampire?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Still, the real nail in the coffin? Is that you have to verbally invite them in. Or they can’t enter your home. Foolproof vampire test. And that, kids, is why you never verbally invite a stranger indoors when it’s dark out.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang stared at the page and illustration there in, disbelief battling with panic between her ears. The owner of the journal had sketched out their version of a local Beacon vampire, and while it wasn’t a carbon copy of Coco, it certainly shared the general theme. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit,” Yang cursed, scrabbling out of the chair and bolting for the front door. She pulled it open roughly, allowing it to slam as she leaped down the steps onto the grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Violet shadows were spreading like spilled ink in every direction. The woods were unnaturally silent; and Ruby and Coco were nowhere to be seen. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Momentum Transfers</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chapter 3 </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the really annoying things about Beacon, Oregon, is that cell phone signal is persistently, inexplicably unreliable at the most inconvenient of times. No matter the provider, no matter where you are at; sometimes, cells just can’t call out or get through. This was one of those times, and it had surpassed the territory of inconvenient to downright nerve wracking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come onnnn,” Yang groaned, phone pressed to her ear. “Come on, Ruby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry. The person you are trying to reach-“</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Screw you!” Yang shouted into the heedless mouthpiece. She retained enough control to not chuck the device across the parking lot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah. Easy, tiger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang spun on her heel, eyes clapping onto a familiar figure in purple and black plaid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake blinked slowly in confirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blake, I need an axe and a vehicle - also, do you know where the graveyard is? GPS isn’t working on my phone right now-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, that’s a lot to unpack all at once?” Blake started, her amber eyes both a little bewildered and amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No time for unpacking,” Yang exclaimed, shaking her head rapidly. “I need a yes or a no! Cuz I gotta go, I gotta go right now!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake opened her mouth, shut it, shrugged, and gestured for Yang to follow her, leading the way down the steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span> then,” Blake droned when Yang didn’t move fast enough. Yang snagged her journal off the porch rail and stumbled after the other girl, right as Blake rounded the corner of the shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, in all its glory, was the aging golf cart that Uncle Qrow kept around for his employees to run errands on the property. Yang had yet to drive it yet, because it was typically in the possession of Jaune, or Blake. She hesitated briefly when Blake slid into the driver’s seat, pushing her ushanka back out of her eyes before giving Yang an expectant look. Blake patted the passenger seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why are we rolling up on the graveyard with axes?” Blake asked as Yang got over her confusion, hopping into the passenger side. The blonde was still clutching the journal, and sandwiched it under a thigh for safe keeping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh – look, you don’t have to go? I can drive, you know?” Yang protested a little, making a steering motion with her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake stared at her pointedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, really?” Blake asked, oozing sarcasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang glared, pretending to rotate the wheel while flipping the other girl off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Incredible,” Blake observed dryly. “So where are we going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, smartass,” Yang started, as Blake backed the golf cart out of employee parking. “I gotta go rescue my sister from a potential vampire date in the freakin graveyard. Hence, the need for axes; and I have it on good authority that you are well supplied in them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake glanced her way as the little golf cart zoomed over the gravel, its tires kicking rocks over the grass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look. I don’t really know you well enough yet for us to be hiding bodies in woods together, cowgirl,” Blake said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang snorted, brushing gold locks from her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kay, talking about a lot to unpack </span>
  <em>
    <span>there.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying,” Blake smirked, cocking her head a little. “You can’t go axing every person in Beacon you suspect is a vampire or some other cryptid, ok? Because most of the population here? All around, we’re pretty sus. And even IF someone secretly is the creature from the black lagoon, it doesn’t mean that they’re chowing down on your little sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I get it,” Yang grumbled, shaking her head. “I get it. I need evidence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s this supposed vampire date’s name? Maybe I know them?” Blake offered. The golf cart jolted as they ramped over a bump in the driveway without slowing down; Yang had to give it to the other girl, she had a lead foot at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coco,” Yang muttered. “Who names their kid Coco? Vampires.  Friggin Count Chocula up in here-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” Blake interrupted, making a face. “There is</span>
  <em>
    <span> nobody</span>
  </em>
  <span> named Coco around here. What is she, a summer local?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I know that, Blake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Blake drawled, her lip twitching. “I’m clearly expecting too much of you.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang’s eyes widened incredulously.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh REALLY.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, you and that ewok hat can take a hike! Do you wanna fight? Cuz I only need one arm to kick your ass,” Yang insisted, shaking her fist ‘threateningly’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch, don’t threaten me and my ewok hat with a good time, Texas Ranger,” Blake laughed. It was low, pretty laugh, that was actually kind of rare. Yang could definitely stand to hear more of it. “You and your little cowgirl bootsies are way out of your league.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang puffed up. One does not talk smack another woman’s boots, for that is one of the gravest insults imaginable in the sovereign nation of Texas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My little cowgirl bootsies are gonna make you taste last week’s maple syrup, EH, pancake eater! Why don’t you go blow some fat vape clouds, ya backwoods livin, lipring-havin, Pabst swillin, hipster-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blakes amber eyes widened in mock insult as she swerved around a big stick in the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How</span>
  <em>
    <span> dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> you call me a hipster! Hipsters appropriated </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span> culture!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I can’t hear you over all that freakin purple plaid, Hozier!” Yang hooted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “At least I’m not afraid to say fuck like a fucking adult! Go build another wall, you goofy fucking yeehaw!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TAKE ME TO CHURCH!” Yang belted suddenly at the top of her lungs. “I’LL WORSHIP LIKE A DOG AT THE THRONE OF YOUR LIIEEES-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“COUNTRY ROAAADS, TAKE ME HOOOME!!“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang swiveled towards the other girl in outrage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t Texas, that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>West Virginia!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake’s eyes widened in victory, her pale face bright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>freakin</span>
  </em>
  <span> difference, Yang?!?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang scoffed aloud, pressing her hand to her chest at the sheer audacity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How DARE you compare us to West Virginia!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not! I wouldn’t want to insult West Virginia that way!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang gasped, before her eyes narrowed menacingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’k. When I’m done stomping vampires? It’s on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake glared back at her briefly, before swerving back onto the road. They had finally reached the asphalt leading into town, and were blazing along at the cart’s impressive twenty miles per hour max. Someone had definitely tampered with the governor at some point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shi- yea. Yea it’s on, cowpoke. You better watch out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang chuckled darkly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> better watch out, since you’re, ya know, actually driving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake flipped her off, both hands firmly on the steering wheel and a wry smile on her face. Yang grinned, before forcing her own eyes back onto the road. She was glad it was pretty dark under the trees, actually; because her cheeks were just a little bit too warm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yang and Blake did not make any pit stops to pick up axes, stakes or any other sort of vampire hunting accouterments on their way to the graveyard. This was largely due to the fact that Blake was packing two canisters of bear mace already, and insisted that if whatever threat they were dealing with was impervious to bear mace, then they’d need to actually just go get her brothers for backup. Yang found this logic hard to argue with, and was honestly hoping that they would just pass Ruby and Coco on their way there, considering the pair had to be on foot. They did not see them anywhere, further rousing Yang’s suspicions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Beacon area graveyard lay on the outskirts of the west end of town, a little ways south of Schnee manor’s hill. It looked like most graveyards, tombstones, mausoleums, monuments and all, with a few balding trees and an iron fence enclosing it. The girls pulled up to the graveyard at precisely six thirty pm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no one in sight. Yang hopped out of the golf cart before Blake had even come to a full stop, bear mace sticking out of the back of her jeans shorts pocket, journal in hand. Blake pulled the keys from the ignition and followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gates to the graveyard were chained shut. The joint apparently closed up right at six, according to the posted hours.The sign always warned against trespassing after dark, and claimed the fine for graverobbing was five hundred dollars per disturbed grave. Yang could feel her nerves ramping up as she started looking for a way to climb over. She cursed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there another way in?” Yang asked, anxiety coating her voice. Blake nodded, biting her lip subconsciously. Yang found her gaze pulled to the motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Woa, now is not the time.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea. Hang on,” Blake skirted left, her converses crunching over the leaves and dry summer grass. “There’s a portion of the fence that’s been ripped open for years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not ominous,” Yang hummed, trailing after the other girl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right? But we’ve been using it to sneak in and have secret benders since before the dawn of time,” Blake said quietly, her voice dropping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> possible Ruby is just at a weird hipster party right now?” Yang asked, keeping her head down. She had never been very good at being sneaky. She was the Rose-Xiao Long household expert in distractions, not subterfuge. “And that I’m completely off base here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly? Not really,” Blake shook her head. “If there was a party in Beacon graveyard tonight, one of my friends would be throwing it. Nobody goes on solo dates here. Whatever this girl is up to? It’s genuinely sus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Yang frowned at the implication, but focused as they passed an old oak tree which concealed the ripped open segment of the graveyard. The bars bulged outwards and apart; as if something had torn its way out, not in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sharing a brief, apprehensive look, the girls slipped between the bars, keeping an eye out for vampires or other graveyard lurkers. The sun wouldn’t fully set until near eight pm, but it was still hard to see in the twilight shadows cast by the mountains and rocky hills that encircled the valley. Yang was torn on whether to start calling for her sister or to silently search. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A noise. Blake’s head pivoted towards it instantly, bear mace in hand as she ducked behind a tombstone, waving for her to do the same. Yang scooted behind a mausoleum, trying to enter the headspace necessary to pass her stealth check. There was silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, another noise, to the right. Yang tried to piece together just what it was, when something red and fluffy tickled her cheek. She leapt away, book raised menacingly, ready to concuss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little red fox was perched on the mausoleum’s roof, following her movements with milky blue eyes. Yang hesitated, lowering the journal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awwww. Hey little guy,” she cooed quietly. The fox cocked its head. “Shh, we’re being sneaky ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yang, quit talking to yourself,” Blake whispered, still crouching. “There’s something out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea, it’s this handsome fella, isn’t it? He is so handsome, yes he is-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fox giggled. Yang fought the urge to squeal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my goodness, he can laugh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about,” Blake hissed, waving her hand broadly at the mausoleum. “There’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang glanced at Blake, then back at the giggling fox, her concern mounting. The fox yawned cheerfully, his fluffy tails undulating in the evening air; there were now five fluffy tails, whereas before there had only been one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh huh,” Yang nodded slowly. “I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake sniffed, before looking over in Yang’s direction again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you eating something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. That would be this guy,” Yang continued to stare. Instead of a fox with too many tails, there was now what was potentially a magical furry, perched on a mausoleum and chowing down on a rice bowl. He looked like Beacon’s resident high school kid that wore fox ears and a tail to school, only they were actually real. He grinned cheekily at her and offered her some rice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang questioned if she had somehow been exposed to hallucinogens as she stared at the proffered rice bowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um. No thank you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The furry kid shrugged. Blake had come closer to the mausoleum, looking seriously freaked as she glanced rapidly about them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you seeing all of these creepy lights?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, are you seeing the fox furry eating out of a rice bowl?” Yang countered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The furry kid laughed at that description, kicking his bare feet, his tails waving about. Blake’s eyes widened at the description.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wha- ok,nope, we’re going,” Blake grabbed Yang’s wrist and spun away from the mausoleum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, hey! I still need to find Ruby!” Yang protested, digging her feet in and pulling herself free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yang, I’m sorry, we’ll find her, but we need to go get help first,” Blake insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought that’s what the bear mace was for?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bear mace doesn’t do anything against kitsunes!” Blake tossed her hands up in frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fox furry beamed at them, waving. Yang paused, processing what Blake had said; instead of interrogating her on how she knew about kitsunes and what worked on them, Yang opened her journal instead, remembering what Ruby had read earlier. After struggling a little, she found the page and started reading rapidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Kitsune lore originates in Japan, their native foothold in physical reality. They are fox spirits, in many ways similar to entities found the world over. (yokai, fae, djinn, nunnehi, menehune, etc)  Beacon has at least one kitsune in residence, but considering they are master illusionists and classified as level five tricksters, then who knows just how many are actually running about? Still, the guy we do know about calls himself Fox. Because for some reason, he thinks that’s funny. Despite his crap sense of humor, he isn’t actually malicious; but he is a nosey little shit. You will run into him in the middle of some crisis or another eventually, if you stick around long enough. He gets bored. Just  be polite and offer him some sake or wine from the liquor store; he might even help you out.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Further Notes: DO NOT ANTAGONIZE HIM. Not unless you want to end up trapped in a dimensional bubble for up to a week. Trust me, it’s not worth it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a drawing beneath these notes, of an angry, spiky stick figure trapped in a bubble in the forest; three other stick figures were standing about the outside of the bubble, question marks hanging over their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sooo, uh. Fox, right?” Yang started, shutting the journal. ‘Fox’ perked up, a curious look on his face as he smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yea?” he chirped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweet Modest Mouse,” Blake cursed, jumping back when she finally laid eyes on him. Apparently, whatever magic he’d been using to conceal himself from her had dropped. He waved his fingers laconically; each one had little black claws instead of fingernails. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry kitty cat,” he chuckled. “My bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake looked genuinely nervous, her bottle of mace raised uselessly as she shot Yang a distressed look. Yang scooted between the two, trying to prevent a potential bubbling incident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So ah. What’s up, man?” Yang prompted. “Whatcha doin out here? Just chillin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I live here. What are you two dinguses doing out and about?” he laughed, laying back on the mausoleum roof. “It’s dangerous at night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you know, just dinging around,” Yang laughed as Fox smirked knowingly. “Um, I hear that you’re a sake guy? Got a particular brand you like best?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he squinted, but his smile didn’t diminish. “What are you after, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang hesitated before taking a shot in the dark. Despite the manner of his appearance, and the fact that he was a literal trickster spirit, Yang got the feeling that he was a probably decent guy; just, you know, really mischievous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ll be honest. I’m looking for my sister and I think a vampire kidnapped her,” Yang continued, raising her hand. “But Ruby is yay tall, big silver eyes, dark short hair, and just a really sweet person? I’m actually really, really scared for her, because I thought she’d be here, and she isn’t. And I’m not sure where else to look.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fox cocked his head, ears twitching as he listened to some distant thing. He tapped his chin, sitting up fully to appraise the pair of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. Well for starters, you’re completely off the mark. A vampire doesn’t have your little sister,” he said, hopping down silently. All around them, little blue and gold lights floated, softly luminescent in the indigo air. “But it’s not your fault for thinking that. She likes to play games, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fox rounded the mausoleum corner and the girls cautiously followed. He paused in a clump of thick grass and drew a circle in the middle of the air; indigo sparks followed his finger, connecting in a ring that hovered over the grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go through here, and you’ll get as close as I can get you to the heart of her kingdom without giving her a heads up. Oh, and I’d take some of that cast-iron on the ground along with you too. Just in case something nasty is lurking around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang looked back and noticed several pointed metal bars left over from the fence lined against the mausoleum wall. She glanced at her book; perhaps she should take a lesson from Ruby and start wearing hoodies for the big, convenient pockets? Or actually start carrying a backpack or something useful. Blake, who had been watching Yang deliberate between ‘book’ or ‘metal stick’ finally rolled her eyes and snatched two rods off the wall. Fox smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but why is getting into a creepy graveyard portal the best course of action here?” Blake huffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a better idea?” Yang asked slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Literally anything else,” Blake insisted, her tone dry as the sahara. “We can’t trust this guy, he’s bad news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s real rich,” Fox yawned loudly. He had teleported back onto the mausoleum and was throwing a shining rubber ball into the air and catching it. “Whatever you say, Belladona.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake glared up at the kitsune, inhaling slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Blake, it’s cool. You really don’t have to come with me,” Yang gave her most disarming smile. “Hopping into mystical furry foxholes is kind of a tall order. Thanks for all the help. I seriously won’t blame you if you wanna bounce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blake stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown a second head. There was a long pause in the little graveyard before Blake finally spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yang. You aren’t ditching me to go jump into a portal to the moon or where the hell ever all by yourself. We’ll go together. But I’m just warning you - if we get dumped into the vacuum of space, or the bottom of the ocean? I reserve the right to say I told you so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t be able to say anything at all in those environments,” Fox snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, I swear-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the assist, Fox!” Yang interrupted, grinning and waving. “I’ll bring you something by this week ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” he hummed, still playing his game of catch. “Watch yourselves in there. Oh, and don’t eat or drink anything they offer you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yang briefly wondered what would have happened if she’d eaten from the rice bowl, before sharing a last with Blake. Then, she turned, and leapt. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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